So should I bring, my soule to happie rest, To end my life, in that I loued best.
W Ho plucks thee down from hie desire poor hart? Care. +Who comforts thee in depth of thy distresse? Care. Amid contents, who breeds thy secret smart? Care. Who seekes the meane, thy sorrowes may be lesse? Care.
(5) Who calls thy wits togither to their worke: Care. Who warnes thy will, to follow warie wit? Care. Who lets thee see in loue what sorrowes lurke? Care. Who makes thee feele the force of fancies fit? Care.
Who taught thee first to trie before thou trust? Care. (10) Who bids thee keepe a faithfull tried freend? Care. Who wils thee say, loue wantons he that lust? +Care. Who winnes the wish, that hath a happie end? Care.
T Hose eies that holds the hand of euery hart, +Those hands that holds the hart of euery eie, That wit that goes beyond all natures Art, That sence too deepe, for wisdome to discrie, (5) That eie, that hand, that wit, that heauenly sence, All these doth show my Mistres Excellence.
Oh eies that perce into the purest hart, Oh hands that hold, the highest harts in thrall, Oh wit that weyes the deapth of all desart, (10) Oh sence that showes, the secret sweete of all, The heauen of heuens, with heuenly powrs preserue thee, Loue but thy selfe, and giue me leaue to serue thee.
To serue, to liue, to looke vpon those eies, To looke, to liue, to kisse that heauenlie hand,